Rhythm & Hues: Carry on Dancing
by Okami-chan
Summary: Bluestreak stumbles across two unexpected femmes and brings them to the Ark. Warning for implied slash.
1. Wednesday

Rhythm & Hues: Carry on Dancing

Author's note: For those that don't like them, this is a fancharacter warning.

Chapter 1

Wednesday

No humans strolled down the normally busy road. No cars waited at the lights. Bluestreak quietly stuck his grill around a corner. Starscream's dulcet tones had reached his audio receptors while patrolling the streets. Which would explain the lack of humans. Sometimes the little creatures did have some sense.

Optimus, though he really thought it had been Smokescreen, had suspected the attack on the research facility out in Nevada to be a diversion. Especially when Mirage had been finding Soundwave's flunkies slinking around Portland the past week, nowhere near their current target. Which was why the Datsun was currently patrolling the city rather than fighting in Nevada.

The resonance off the buildings distorted the Seeker's voice, so Bluestreak had no idea what Starscream was saying, or rather, screaming. He transformed and put his back against the brick wall of an office building and peeked one bright blue optic around the corner. He held his rifle up, ready to rush in and start firing.

Starscream stood over two very beat up little sports cars- one blue, one red-orange-demanding to know where "it" was, whatever "it" was. Bluestreak tightened his grip on the butt of his rifle. While he wasn't exactly that eager to engage anyone in battle, least of all Starscream, he could see two human females cowering inside their vehicles. He couldn't stand by while Starscream followed through on his threats. The Datsun tightened his door wings and swung around the corner, firing off two shots before ducking into an alley.

Starscream let out a loud and long string of curses. He looked around in confusion trying to pinpoint the origin of the shots. "I know you're there, Autobot! I'm no fool!"

Could've fooled me, Screamer. Bluestreak kept that particular thought to himself.

One of the Lotus Esprits, the blue one, backed away a few feet before Starscream turned his attention back to the cars. "Where do you think you're going flesh creature? I want to know where you're hiding it!" He leveled his arm cannon at the little car.

The other car's engine revved, and if Bluestreak didn't know any better, he'd think that it was growling at the Decepticon. Bluestreak stepped out and fired another shot from his hand rifle. Then he added two more from his shoulder rifles. "Why don't you pick on somebody your own size, Starscream. Leave them alone!"

Starsscream hissed, touching the three holes Bluestreak had opened in his chassis. "You fool, Autobot! Facing me by yourself!" Starscream easily hefted the Esprit that had tried to escape him. "Surrender or I will crush this stupid little car and the flesh creature inside it."

"YOU LET MY SISTER GO!'

No Transformer should be surprised when a perfectly normal-seeming car turns into something more. But when the red-orange Esprit rose and _transformed, _both Autobot and Decepticon sure came close to it: Starscream nearly dropped the car in his hands; Bluestreak nearly fired all three of his guns.

A femme bot rushed Starscream and started beating the jet with her fists. Bluestreak blinked his optics. She made it look so… cute. Which is something, considering her little fists were putting small dents in the Screamer's arm. Starscream shrieked an objection and threw the car in his hands at the femme. Bluestreak managed not to be as surprised when the blue car popped into another femme bot. The red-orange femme grabbed the blue one and danced out of Starscream's stunned grasp.

Bluestreak gathered up the remains of his wit and chased the Seeker into the air and out of sight. Which wouldn't normally have been possible, except that Starscream was clearly in shock from surprise.

The Datsun turned to the two femmes. They looked at him, though their optics flicked toward his weaponry. Then they both transformed and screeched away. "Wait!" Even as he shouted Bluestreak transformed and took off after them. He followed their taillights through the sharp corners of the city until they reached the highway. Here he put the figurative pedal to the metal and overtook the two slim cars.

"Wait a minute! Won't you stop?"

The blue Esprit's pop up head light lifted briefly, but the other remained firmly closed. When the blue's lowered they both sped up. Fast they might be, but with no obstacles, it appeared he was faster still. "Why won't you talk to me? Where did you come from? How did you get here? How long have you been here?" While he threw out his questions he took in their condition.

They looked pretty bad off. Dents and scorch marks marred their coloring. They were covered in what looked like bad welding marks. They had sounds coming out of their engines that could not be healthy. Bluestreak wondered if that was from living off earth fuel, without it being converted to energon.

An F-1 race car shimmered into existence, cruising along beside them. "Bluestreak, is there something amiss?"

The two Esprits fishtailed, revving their engines at his sudden appearance.

"You know, you're about to hit traffic. In less than a mile, I'd say," the spy told them.

"Mirage! You've got to help me. Primus knows, we've got to stop them. You just won't believe it!"

"Bluestreak calm down. What are you talking about?" Mirage idly turned his wheels, swerving gently on the road.

"Just help me!"

"Hmph." But the former Towers resident pulled up alongside the blue Esprit. "Excuse me miss," he told the human that had appeared at the wheel. "Would you kindly pull over? I'd hate to see you or your friend get hurt with the traffic jam up ahead. See now, there's an exit coming up. Why don't we pull off." Despite all his genteel manner, Mirage added a little force to his words . He would not move out of the car's way; he was forcing the Esprit onto the ramp. The red-orange Esprit acted confused, edging forward than slowing down. Finally she, too, headed onto the ramp, before it was too late.

"Now then, Bluestreak." Mirage 'guided' the blue car into a parking lot. "Tell me, why are we scaring these two nice humans? Not to mention the dent we're putting in their schedule."

Bluestreak stuttered, unable to get the words out clearly. Then he transformed and gently shook the little blue Esprit. "Show him!"

The woman vanished from the driver's seat. Slowly, reluctantly, the hood folded down and a silver head, crowned in black, popped up. The doors slid up, and behind the shoulders that folded out, to form door wings. The red-orange Esprit also transformed, though faster and the face that folded up scowled fiercely. While bigger than a minibot, they were still shorter than the two mechs. And neither of them bore any faction markings

Mirage's engine died and he transformed, shock written on his white face. "Well I'll be." But that was all he said for a long moment.

Bluestreak crossed his arms over his chestplate, doorwings held high. "Now do you see why I needed to stop them?" The Datsun turned to the two femmes and extended his hand. "My name is Bluestreak. I'm really really sorry if I scared you."

Mirage reached his own hand out to the red-orange femme. "I am Mirage. Forgive my rudeness."

The blue Esprit stared at his hand before reaching out her own. "My name is Rhythm."

The red-orange femme snorted but put her hand into Mirage's. "Hues."

"So why did you run away from me? I just saved you from Starscream. You should have known I meant you no harm."

Mirage frowned at hearing this, but opened another circuit. "I'm more interested in where you came from. It seems odd that you two appear out of nowhere."

Rhythm turned her purple optics on the noble mech."Well we've been active for only about 1825 solar cycles. Our memory circuits are kinda scrambled so we're not entirely sure about just how we came to be on this planet."

Hues crossed her arms. "We ran because no Cybertronian has ever tried to kill us before. And I thought he called you an Autobot," she shot at Bluestreak.

Bluestreak and Mirage exchanged a brief glance. Where the slag had these two been. "I am an Autobot, and so is he. Starscream is a Decepticon. Unfortunately him threatening somebody is nearly a daily occurrence. But I won't hurt you."

Mirage eyed the slowly growing crowd of humans. "Why don't you two come back to the base with us. It'd be a lot safer, and you look like you could use some repairs.

The two femmes smiled and tittered with embarrassment. Then all four of them transformed and headed for the Autobot base, with Bluestreak leading the way and Mirage making sure neither of them bolted.

The four transformers pulled up to the Ark. The femmes transformed and stared up at the giant boosters sticking out of the mountain.

"Welcome to the Ark," Bluestreak said as he transformed. Mirage followed suit, though he remained silent.

"Wow, so this is the Ark?" Hues cooed, her head tilted back, her purple optics glinting in the sunlight.

Bluestreak grinned. "You've heard of it?"

"Only that they were planning on building an exploration ship that would hold specimens from other worlds."

Mirage frowned at them. "That was its original intent, at least before the war."

The two femmes jerked around. "What war?" they both asked.

Bluestreak's jaw dropped. "I just saved you from a Decepticon. Don't you even know who they are?"

Hues tapped a finger on her thigh still admiring the Ark. "I seem to recall some bots going by that name. They started a war? For how long now? Orns? Vorns?

"Try over 100,000 vorns." The two identical femmes turned to stare at Mirage. "Let's get inside before Red has a malfunction."

"That's quite alright Mirage. 'Red' can have a malfunction just fine with them right there." The aforementioned Red stood at the entrance, underneath the orange boosters. "What are you doing bringing them here? Did you ever think it might be a Decepticon trap?"

Bluestreak lifted his hand toward the femmes. "But I saved them _from _Starscream."

Red Alert snorted derisively, his fists planted on his hips. "Aren't _you _supposed to be on patrol?" Red's blue optics turned to Mirage. "And you're supposed to be in Nevada?"

Mirage tilted his head. "The battle was almost over. They didn't need me anymore."

Bluestreak touched Rhythm's shoulder. "Come on, we should get you inside and cleaned up a little."

"Absolutely not! Not until I'm one hundred percent certain that they pose no security risk outside of what they see and hear, which is bad enough in itself. You," he pointed to Bluestreak, "are in the way. Go back to patrol. And you," he turned to Mirage, "get down to Perceptor and have yourself repaired. I'll tend to these two."

Grumbling the two Autobots did as Red Alert commanded.

* * *

The Security Director turned to the two femmes, the sensors on his head blinking as he looked them over from a distance. "I don't see anything initially alarming. Hold your arms parallel to the ground." 

Stunned at being so succinctly ordered around, Rhythm and Hues did as they were told. Red Alert walked around the two, pausing every so often to poke or prod a suspicious crevice or fold. The Security Director ordered them to widen their stance and he ran his hands down their slim legs.

"You don't have any weapon storage?"

They shook their heads silently.

He turned their arms this way and that, and peered into their optics. "You two are as bare as a protoform." Red Alert finally declared. "But I'm still putting you in a holding cell until Perceptor or Ratchet get a chance to properly scan you."

"Will that be for long?" Rhythm asked, a plaintive note in her singsong voice.

"It will be as soon as possible, but still might not be until nightfall. Come with me."

The two femmes obediently followed him into the Ark, optics wide with wonder.

* * *

Mirage lifted a piece of heavy equipment while Perceptor moved a piece of delicate machinery. 

"How far away are Ratchet and Ironhide?"

"I calculate they will be here in 10.386 klicks as of now." Perceptor angled the surgical arm just right over the gurney. "But Red Alert wanted me to examine our unexpected guests. Therefore, I need to prepare the med bay quickly."

"Who's Ratchet bringing in?"

"Really, that should be a logical conclusion. Who else would need emergency repairs except for the twins." Perceptor ran a test scan. "There that is ready." He wiped his hands clean with a cloth that he tossed into a recycle unit. "Now then, let us go examine these femme bots Red Alert is clamoring about before Ratchet arrives." He grabbed a hand held scanner and they headed for the brig where Red Alert waited for them.

"It's about time you got here, Perceptor." Red Alert opened the bars to permit Perceptor, though he wouldn't let Mirage set foot in the cell. "I want you to run a full spectrum analysis on these two for any spy equipment or hidden weapons, plus check for any possible viruses or detonation devices.

Perceptor knelt down next to the red-orange femme, quietly introducing himself through Red's litany. He ran his hand scanner over Hues while he answered the Security Director. "Red Alert, that is entirely impossible, unless you would have them brought up to med bay." The scientist paused before he switched to Rhythm to look at Red Alert. "I postulated that you would not." Perceptor stood and stepped out of the cell, double checking the results of the scan.

Red Alert put up the sound dampeners, so the femmes couldn't hear what they discussed. And he nearly exploded. "You don't understand! They could sabotage the equipment. They could kill the wounded or worse take hostages. The med bay doesn't have the necessary facilities for the threat they represent, and we don't have the personnel to counteract that lack right now."

Perceptor lowered his datapad. "A threat that I cannot detect. What my scans do show are appallingly clogged fuel systems, damaged ventilators, and that's just their shared problems. They need to be in the med bay."

"No. There's too much of a security risk. They can wait until Ratchet is able to come down here and see them." Red paused and his sensors flashed. "They're here."

Perceptor tried again. "But-"

Red Alert shooed Perceptor and Mirage out. "No. Go help unload Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Mirage go with him, then return to guard our guests."

Perceptor shot a helpless look at the two pairs of watching optics. Then he turned and trudged down the corridor for the main bay doors with Mirage.

Ratchet impatiently flashed his siren lights at Perceptor and Mirage . "Perceptor, get Sunstreaker out and help me get him to the med bay. His ventilator has been punctured."

Perceptor lifted Sunstreaker out of Ratchet. "There is a small matter you should be aware of, Ratchet."

Ratchet transformed. "Is my med bay damaged?" He picked up Sunstreaker's feet.

"No."

"Then it can wait. Mirage, help Ironhide with Sideswipe." Ratchet and Perceptor started for the ark.

Mirage pulled Sideswipe out of Ironhide as gently as he could. "Ratchet, you really do need to hear this."

Ratchet looked over his shoulder. "I said later."

Mirage sighed as Ratchet disappeared into the ark. Ironhide transformed and together they carried the large warrior in.

They set the twins close to each other and Perceptor and Ratchet immediately set to work repairing the holes that had been blown through them.

Mirage frowned. "They were fine when I left. What happened?"

"Starscream's what happened. Skywarp teleported him in." Ratchet glanced up, perpetual scowl in place. "And where were you?"

Mirage stiffened and lifted his chin. "I left to check on Bluestreak. Prime knew I had left."

"Whatever. Just get."

Mirage and Ironhide turned and walked out of the med bay. The spy headed toward the brig, while Ironhide turned the opposite way. The big red van stopped when he realized Mirage wasn't following him. "Where d'ya think yer goin'?"

"Red sent me to the brig," Mirage replied noncommittally.

Ironhide frowned. "Whatcha do ter earn that?"

Mirage didn't look at the Security Officer. "He's sending me as a guard."

"Ah, well, okay then."

Mirage continued on his way until he heard heavy footfalls coming up behind him.

"Wait just an astrosecond. If the Twins are in repair, who's in the brig?"

Ironhide took in the condition of the two femmes. They sat touching shoulders, warily watching the new mech. Ironhide deactivated the sound dampeners.

"Mirage explained what happened. I'm sorry, ladies, if ya give me a cycle, I'll clear those scan results and let you out. Can I get ya anything in the meantime?"

Rhythm smiled up at him. "We are feeling a little depleted."

Ironhide returned the smile brightly. "That's a problem we can solve. I'll be right back." The old mech went to the brig dispenser and poured two cups of energon. He returned and opened the bars to hand the cups over. "Just sit them on the floor when yer done. I'm gonna go straighten out the datawork."

* * *

He headed straight for the monitor station, where, sure enough Red Alert sat. He had the brig on five different screens, each at a different angle. "I'm surprised ya weren't down there waiting fer Mirage ter return." 

Red Alert frowned at the big red mech. "I'm not going to fret about two things when there are so many more potential security breeches. Besides I can watch them just as well from here."

Ironhide harrumphed. "Anything from that scan of Perceptor's?"

"According to his scanner, they have nothing except for the need of repair." Red's blue eyes never left the screens in front of him, but he pushed the relevant datapad toward his superior. "I'd really much rather have them both deep-scanned."

Ironhide picked up the data pad. "Good. Then I'll just get them up ter med bay and have Ratchet look at them."

Red Alert sputtered in indignation. "I'd really much rather be there myself."

"I'll let you know how it goes then. I'm goin' ter see them to the med bay then catch a recharge. I'll be back by 23:30."

Ironhide strode out, ignoring Red's protests.

When he returned to the brig, he found Mirage carefully and quietly breaking his gun down. "They're in a deep recharge. I did try to wake them when I heard you coming."

Ironhide grunted. "I'm off ter recharge myself. I'll leave instructions fer Bluestreak ter take over after he comes in from patrol. If they wake up, have Red let them out and see them ter med bay. If he gives ya trouble, then ya hail me." With that Ironhide turned and left.

* * *

Mirage turned his attention back to cleaning his gun, ready to while away the cycles in that manner. 

Mirage's chronometer read a few minutes before midnight when Bluestreak waltzed in. The spy was just pitting the last of his rifle back together. "You got some recharge I see."

Bluestreak quirked an embarrassed grin. "Yeah, I'm sorry, but I made sure it was really quick. They haven't stirred have they? I was hoping they would be online when I got here. I was so hoping to chat with them."

Mirage subspaced his rifle and stretched out his legs before he hopped up. "Well, I'm due for a morning patrol. I'm off to catch a few hours myself."

"Do you want me to let you know if they wake-"

Mirage cut Bluestreak off with a hand on his shoulder. The spy turned his blue crowned head. What was that noise? He looked long and hard at the inactive femmes. Then he heard it again. A gargling. Mirage turned all his focus on the femmes. His keen eyes caught the thin stream of pink and brown fluid seeping out of Rhythm's mouth. Hues had an eerie silence about her, but she too had a mix of pink and brown fluid running down he slack chin. Then Rhythm began shaking, though her optics remained off.

Mirage whirled and slammed his fist on the alarm button.

* * *

Author's Afternote: I've always promised myself that I wouldn't create Mary Suebots for Transformers... But we see how that went. At the same time, this is a bit of a chance to have some fun with unexplored aspects of Cybertronian culture. 

Edit: Recalculated the vorns to reflect 9 million years instead of 5 million. Also, just realized ffnet been eating my asterisks that I used to separate POV/scene changes. Have fixed with lines. Additionally I have corrected Ironhide and Red Alert's titles (I accidentally had them switched around in my head)


	2. Thursday

Rhythm & Hues: Carry on Dancing

Chapter 2

Thursday

* * *

It had just turned midnight and Ratchet rubbed at his optics, unconsciously miming a human custom. The Lamborghinis would be in a deep recharge until tomorrow morning, at least. He was heading for recharge himself. He staggered to the med bay entrance and noticed lights flashing off the burnt orange frame. He always left the siren on silent, so that it wouldn't needlessly startle him during a delicate operation. He quickly identified the source of the alarm. The brig. 

He activated his com. "This had better be good," he snarled.

"We have a situation down here," Mirage's cultured voice replied. Then the spy cut his side of the transmission.

Ratchet growled, but grabbed his tool bag and dashed out the double doors. At the same time, he raised Ironhide on the comm. "What the slag is going on, Ironhide?"

Ironhide's confused voice came over the channel. "I just took over. I was hopin' you'd be able ter tell me. I'm on my way."

Ratchet met up with Ironhide at an intersection. The Security Officer shoved a cup of warm energon into Ratchet's grateful hand. The CMO stopped just in front of the brig doors and gulped down the energon. He tossed the cup into a disposal unit. "Wait an astrosecond. If the twins are in my med bay, who's in here."

Ironhide opened the door with a humorless laugh, where Bluestreak danced just beyond. He saw Ratchet and seized the medic's hand, dragging him toward a cell.

"What the slag's going on Bluestreak? This had better not be a practical joke or you'll see just where my- Oh, Primus!" Ratchet homed in on the two femmes immediately. "Where the slag did they come from and why in the Inferno aren't they in my med bay. Open this fragging cell, Ironhide."

"Well you see, Ratchet, it was Red Alert-" Bluestreak began.

"Red Alert? Red Alert stuck them in here? I'm going to slagging kill that little glitch. And you!" Ratchet whirled towards Ironhide "What's your slagging excuse?"

Ironhide punched in the release code, unperturbed by Ratchet's glower. "I was gonna send them down, Ratch, but they went into recharge. I did leave instructions for them to be moved when they woke."

Ratchet moved into the open cell and knelt down next to his new patients. He nodded at Ironhide's explanation, focused on the task at hand, suddenly alert. "Now, tell me everything you recall. What is this stuff?" The last he murmured to himself. He touched the fluid on Hues, sniffing and eyeing it critically. He listened to their tale, motioning for them to speed it up

His fingers pressed at their shoddy welds and he rubbed his fingers together at the feeling of moisture seeping from Hues. He opened the flame-colored chest plate and immediately jerked his hands back when pink and brown fluids gushed out. "Slag." He closed her chest plate. Then he repeated the process on Rhythm, glad _he_ wouldn't have to clean this mess up. Clearing their chassis didn't seem to improve their condition, as Rhythm continued to shake and Hues ventilator didn't start.

Ratchet stood and gestured Bluestreak and Mirage over. "Get them to the med bay." He wiped his hands clean on a cloth. The spy and the gunner hastily gathered the femmes up and headed out. "Let me see Perceptor's results." Ratchet hurriedly scanned the datapad Ironhide handed him and the CMO began cursing Red Alert again.. He immediately set after Bluestreak and Mirage with Ironhide on his heels.

"What is it?"

"That slagging, aft-headed fool! Their fuel lines are clogged and that energon you gave them flooded their systems. I need Perceptor and he's not answering his comm.."

Ironhide smartly turned and rushed off to locate the scientist.

Ratchet strode into the med bay, immediately going to the red-orange femme, and popped her chest plate back open. "What were you two planning?"

"I was scheduled to guard these two," Bluestreak offered.

Mirage edged toward the door. "I _was_ planning on recharging."

Ratchet nodded once. "Nothing. Good. You've just been volunteered to be nurse bots. Mirage, open her up and start cleaning out the fuel. Bluestreak grab a rag and take over."

Bluestreak eagerly jumped in, but Mirage scowled as he fumbled with the latches.

It was a long morning for them all.

* * *

Ratchet gently set the chest plate down, over the tubes running from inside the Hues' torso. Perceptor did the same on Rhythm. Mirage had left a ten breems ago to catch what little recharge he could before his patrol. 

Bluestreak stood to one side, ready to hold one more piece of tubing or stick a cup of energon into weary hands. Ratchet couldn't have done it without them. "What now?" Bluestreak finally asked.

"We wait," Ratchet replied.

"There is nothing we can do while the primitive fuel is purged from their systems."

The CMO slid a half-amused smirk toward Perceptor. "Well, you and Wheeljack did always wonder what would happen if we took unrefined earth fuels for an extended period of time."

Perceptor headed for the med bay doors. "Yes, but I did not quite expect to find out in this manner. I would have much preferred to contain the experiment, and monitor it a great deal closer. I will be back after I have had a sufficient recharge." The door opened, and then shut behind him. Ratchet tweaked the life support hooked up to the femmes. He could ask Bluestreak more about them, but the young mech knew how to ramble on. And on. Ratchet's impatience overrode his curiousity, right then.

The door hissed open, and Ratchet spoke without turning around. "Did you forget something, Perce, or-" Then he saw who it was. "You!"

The red and white mech's sensors flashed in alarm at the angry CMO storming toward him. Red Alert took a step back, but Ratchet wrenched him forward, so that the door could close behind him.

"W-What are they doing here? I ordered-"

"You slagging near killed them!" Ratchet shouted, dropping the mech to his feet none too gently.

"Protocol clearly states-"

"Don't give me that slag. Protocol makes allowances for injuries."

Red Alert frowned and attempted to move past the CMO. "Perceptor didn't mention that they were that badly damaged."

Ratchet threw his hands in the air. "Don't give me that either! He did try to tell you, but _you_," and he jabbed Red's chest, "wouldn't listen."

"According to Mirage and Bluestreak, they lasted quite a while without professional medical attention."

Ratchet's gripped Red Alert's shoulder and shook the Security Director. "That wasn't your call to make. _You're_ not a medic!"

The doors unexpectedly whooshed open, revealing Optimus Prime's bulky form. The Autobot Commander looked at his CMO and Security Director. "Is there a problem?"

Ratchet turned to Optimus, releasing Red. "Yes, there's a problem! This aft-head nearly killed-"

Prime put his hands on Ratchet's shoulder, patting the angry mech. "I know, Ironhide told me." His blue optics slid to the Security Director. "If I could have a word with you, Red Alert."

Ratchet took the hint and headed over to where the twins lay, both strapped down in case they onlined mentally still in the fight. Sideswipe blinked up at him, devilish grin on his face. "That was worth every blast from Starscream, to see you chew Red out."

Ratchet put on his perpetual scowl and turned it on the red Lamborghini. "If you're well enough to crack jokes, then get out of my med bay."

Sideswipe paused to look at the unconscious Sunstreaker, then he shuttered his optics.

"That's what I thought." Ratchet turned to the yellow twin and checked him over, his movements full of contained anger. Even half the bay away, over Sideswipe's voice, audio's sensitive enough to listen for the slightest crackle of shorting wires could hear Prime's soft reprimand.

"Red Alert, I know you're concerned for the security of the Ark, but we have no proof that they have anything to do with the Decepticons. From all appearances, they have been away from Cybertron for a very long time. Yes, they will need to understand the necessity of having a guard for the time being." Prime patted Red Alert's back. "But let's make them feel welcome. Return to your duties, Red Alert."

The red and white Lamborghini stormed out of the med bay, clearly not satisfied with Prime's decision.

Prime glanced at the femmes, but approached Ratchet first. He put one hand on Sideswipe's shoulder. "Sideswipe, how are you feeling, there?"

Sideswipe's optics winked on and slid to Ratchet. "Um, ow."

The Commander laughed. "I was worried about you last night, both of you…" his voice trailed off expectantly as he glanced at Sunstreaker.

Ratchet checked the monitors, making sure the more volatile twin remained out until the CMO was good and ready. "Sunstreaker will be fine, for all that Starscream nearly blew him in half," he filled in obligingly.

Sideswipe winced at the memory. "How were we supposed to know the Screamer would pop in like that? Hey, could you unstrap me? I'm feeling a little constrained here."

With a long-suffering sigh, Ratchet reached over and released the red mech.

Optimus patiently waited until the CMO gave Sideswipe a once over, all the while growling threats of dire consequences should the twin reinjure himself anytime soon. When Ratchet finally turned to Prime, the commander nodded toward the other two occupants of the med bay.

"And them?"

Sideswipe looked over in curiosity. "Whoa! Femmes! Where'd they come from?"

The two officers glared at the Lamborghini, then ignored him.

Ratchet walked over to the femmes and checked the tubing attached to their fuel pumps. "They were really clogged up when I finally," and Ratchet spat that word out, "got to them. The energon Ironhide gave them was too thick for them to handle, it backed up and flooded their systems." Ratchet clenched a fist, still furious at Red Alert.

"Easy Ratchet. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker needed your help, too. You only have one pair of hands and you can't be everywhere at once."

Ratchet shook his head, refusing to face Prime. "That's exactly what boils my lines, Prime. Perceptor was helping me, but he could have stabilized Sideswipe and then started a system flush on them. If. They. Had. Been. _Here._"

Prime sighed, shaking his head. "What else do they need? Our resources are limited, much as we like to help civilians."

Ratchet pulled out a datapad and looked it over. "A lot. The blue one, Rhythm, has a short I'm going to have to find. I'm going to have to look at their joints, some of them are sticking . There's more, but I'm just too tired to comprehend it right now. And that's not counting the rewelding and more cosmetic damage."

Prime nodded. "I trust you to make the right choices on what's essential and what's not. Are they a danger? Any weapons as Red Alert suspects?"

Ratchet scanned the data pad. "The worst slagging thing I can find is a low-powered holo emitter. Nowhere near as advanced as Hounds."

"Then why don't you recharge. First Aid is doing just that. Then you two can finish the job. Think you'll finish today?"

Ratchet scowled down at the datapad. "If you're wondering if I can bring them online today, that will depend on how extensive the damage is. I'm just too tired to see it straight right now.

"Very well then." Optimus turned his optics to the unusually silent gunner "Bluestreak, I'll send someone to relieve you in a megacycle."

The gunner nodded. "Oh, I really don't mind watching them. I'm glad they'll be okay and everything. It's better than guarding the twins… I mean, understood, Prime."

Prime's mask lifted in a hidden smile and he turned and left the med bay.

Sideswipe appeared next to Ratchet. "Soo… where'd they come from?

"Bluestreak found them, ask him." The CMO turned to leave. "I'm going to recharge." The doors opened, but Ratchet turned to wag a finger at the red twin. "And don't touch a slagging thing.

Sideswipe pulled his most innocent face. When the door closed behind him, Ratchet clearly heard the cheeky devil's voice.

"You think we're no fun to guard, Blue?"

* * *

A megacycle of recharge was nowhere near what he needed, but he forced himself off his berth and staggered his way to the cleaning racks. Clean and with his third cup of energon in hand he made his way to the med bay. 

First Aid greeted him at the door, and they went in together. The medic trainee paused when he saw the femmes lying on the gurneys. He quickly caught up with Ratchet who was heading for Sunstreaker, still offline. When he realized Sideswipe wasn't at his brother's side, the CMO turned to the red twin.

"What are you doing over there?"

Sideswipe shrugged and stepped around the femmes' gurneys. "Ironhide was going to relieve Bluestreak, but since I 'have nothin' better ter do', he left me to guard them."

Ratchet gestured sharply. "Well, come guard them from over here. I'm about to bring Sunstreaker online, and it'd be easier if he saw you here."

Sideswipe's ever-present smile widened and he joined the two medics. Ratchet opened the circuits keeping Sunstreaker offline.

The entire table bounced off the floor when the golden Lamborghini onlined with a shout. Blue optics looked wildly about, until they settled on Sideswipe's grinning face. The golden warrior immediately calmed.

The doors hissed open and permitted the small form of Sparkplug into the med bay. "Looks like Spike and I missed all the fun." Then he noticed the two femmes on the gurneys. "Oh, hello. Ratchet, you don't mind if I…"

Ratchet shook his head and waved Sparkplug on, preoccupied with guiding his trainee in looking over Sunstreaker. When he was confident First Aid could handle the rest, he joined Sparkplug.

"Is something wrong, Sparkplug?" Ratchet asked when he saw the man scratching his head.

"I can't figure this out. What are they?" Then he thought better of his question. "Well, I mean, I know they're robots like you, but they don't look nothing like you."

Ratchet tilted his head. "Well, they have no form of armor on them, if that's what you mean."

Sparkplug pursed his lips and shook his head. "No, I mean that if I didn't know any better, I'd swear they look almost feminine."

Ratchet's chevron lifted in realization. "That's right, you've never seen a female transformer."

Sparkplug's eyebrows lifted into his receding hairline. "I guess I never really thought there was a female Autobot."

The CMO smirked at the half-muttered statement. "Well, they're not exactly Autobots. They're neutrals." Ratchet lifted the red-orange colored chestplate and began extricating the tubes from her fuel system.

Sparkplug stood on Rhythm's gurney, quietly looking her over. He picked at something on the back of her arms. "What are these for? I've never seen them on you."

"What?" Ratchet peered down at Rhythm, wondering if he'd missed another injury. Sparkplug fiddled with a series of small rings attached to the back of her arms. Now that he looked closer, he saw them on her doorwings and her crown. Ratchet stared in open-mouthed wonder. "Well I'll be a retrorat in a den of tubofoxes."

The human frowned in confusion. "So, what are they?"

Ratchet smiled. "Something I haven't seen since nearly the beginning of the war."

* * *

"Ah, Ratchet, how are our two guests faring?" Optimus Prime nodded his head at the CMO. 

Ratchet took the only empty seat left between Trailbreaker and Skids. Prime had called a meeting of the officers present.

"They're going to be fine, though not exactly pretty." Ratchet leveled his perpetual scowl on Red Alert.

Prime raised a hand to forestall Red Alert. "We'll get to that, Red Alert. I'd like to begin by letting you know that Megatron's attack on the power plant in Nevada was indeed a diversion. It seems Megatron had identified a signal, Cybertronian in origin, but one not from us or them."

At a signal from Prime, Blaster stood. "I've been seeing the same blips for a while, but had trouble tracking it. There's reason to believe the Deceptiocns started blocking the signal in order to pin it down before us."

Trailbreaker spoke up. "Take it the signal was the two femmes down in med bay?"

Prim nodded and then related the entire story. Red Alert found himself on the receiving end of many glares when Prime told his part. "Red Alert has a few security issues he would like to bring up in relation to this."

"I'm sure you're all aware that I think this is a Decepticon trap. With very good reasons, after all-" Red Alert glanced at Ratchet, who glowered back, daring him. "I'll go into detail with any who wish to discuss the matter one on one. Still as these are neutral in their allegiance, we should assume that the Decepticons may try to persuade them to reveal whatever secrets they learn while here. We should act accordingly." Everyone reluctantly muttered agreement. "They could hack into Teletran-1 and gain access to classified information the humans have entrusted us with. We should plan for all such contingencies," Red added when he saw Ratchet shaking his head. Red Alert sat down after he continued along those lines for another ten minutes.

"Ratchet did you find anything that would warrant further cause for concern." All optics turned to the CMO.

Ratchet rose, curling his fingers around a collection of objects in his hand. "They have no weapons attachments. Slag they haven't been upgraded almost as long as Kup! Their sparks pulse at the same frequency-"

"Twins?" Trailbreaker broke in.

"Twins built to look almost exactly alike. Why do that?" Wheeljack added.

"I imagine it has something to do with the fact that they're dancers." He scattered what he held onto the table. Metal jangled as rings clattered and bells rolled. "I highly doubt they'll be much danger."

Blue optics widened around the table. Cybertronian dancers had either been considered useless pieces of scrap by the Decepticons and destroyed, or reformatted into Autobots.

Blaster shifted uncomfortably as everyone's gaze fell on him. "What are you lookin' at me for? You act like I should know of them."

Red Alert scowled. "That actually means that it is extremely dangerous for them to remain here. The Decepticons will surely attempt to destroy them, if for no other reason than to lower morale. Shall I even list the viruses they could spread among the crew?"

The CMO slammed his hand down on the table. "Let _me_ worry about that, Red Alert."

Prime twined his fingers together. A subtle movement, but it drew his officers' attention to him. "Then you have a suggestion, Ratchet?"

"Simple, quarantine. Nobody will argue with it. As for the Decepticons… now that, Red Alert, _you _are allowed to worry yourself into a short about. So long as _I_ don't have to fix you." Ratchet paused, considering. "Of course, you'd be good practice for Aid…"

Red's sensors flashed in alarm. "N-No that's quite alright. You just keep your trainee away." He muttered something about bad repairs and walking backwards.

Snickers went around the table.

"Very well, Ratchet. Make sure your squads know that Rhythm and Hues are off limits until further notice." Prime nodded at Blaster. "The final report is a brief update on Prowl and Jazz's mission. Blaster, if you would."

Ratchet sat down and the boombox stood up. "Prowl was able to slip a message to me. Jazz has managed to infiltrate the organization, and found the weapons they'd been using. They're Cybertronian in origin. Jazz is tracing their weapons dealer contacts and hopes to finish the mission soon."

"That is all I have. Does anyone wish to report anything else?" Optimus looked around the room.

Hotshot spoke up. "May I suggest that Silverbolt not allow the Aerialbots to get their hands on bungee cords again."

Silverbolt huffed. "As long as Blades stays away from the spray paint."

Affable chuckles went around the table.

Wheeljack rubbed at the bottom of his mask. "Any ideas on what we're going to do with Rhythm and Hues?"

Optimus stood to leave. "That will largely be up to them. Unless anyone has anything else, meeting adjourned."

The small group of officers murmured amongst themselves. Trailbreaker turned to the CMO. "Smokescreen is taking wagers on who the organization is buying from."

Ratchet shook his head. "With Swindle out there, I'm not taking." He stood and headed out the door. "Need to get back to work."

* * *

Author's Note: It's pushing it, really pushing it, for Red Alert to be at the meeting (according to his stats). So he's getting a bit of a rank boost for the sake of this fic. I wanted to post this over this past weekend, but I was stuck on revising it. 

Edit: Corrected Ironhide's and Red Alert's titles.


	3. Friday

Rhythm & Hues: Carry on Dancing

Chapter 3

Friday

* * *

With the exception of the two guests, the med bay was surprisingly quiet. Usually at least Huffer was there complaining about some imagined ailment. Or either Sunstreaker or Tracks for a small scratch. Although it might have something to do with the edict that no one was to come into the med bay short of being ready to keel over while the femmes woke. 

Ratchet closed Hues' chest plate as Wheeljack latched Rhythm's. He checked them over one last time, before he removed the breakers that kept them offline. Purple optics winked on and took in their surroundings, including the two mechs standing over them. Panic briefly lit their optics, until they turned their heads and saw one another. Like an echo of the Lamborghinis from yesterday, the sight of their twin calmed them.

"How are you both feeling?" Wheeljack gently asked. His vocal indicators flashed merrily.

"Confused." Rhythm systematically moved her joints, as though expecting to find them fastened down.

"Same here. Weren't we behind bars?" Hues took in Ironhide's quiet presence. "I see, but we're still under guard?"

Prime's voice rumbled through the med bay. "An unfortunate, but necessary, precaution."

Ratchet and Wheeljack helped the femmes to sit up. Optimus Prime came forward and asked for their names, clasping hands briefly as they answered. Then he introduced himself. "I am Optimus Prime, and I am the leader of the Autobots."

Twin pairs of optics widened as jaws went slack in shock. They belatedly caught and composed themselves. "It's an honor to meet you, sir," they said in hollow voices.

"Please forgive us, it's just that last we knew Sentinel was Prime."

Rhythm's face wore a sheepish expression. "And we never expected any Prime to be on this backwater planet."

Prime gestured widely. "And yet here we are, though not entirely by choice. As for Sentinel Prime, I'm afraid he fell during the Decepticon's first attack. Now I would like to hear your story, in exchange, I'll relate ours." He waited expectantly.

The femmes glanced at each other. Rhythm appealed to Hues, who crossed her arms, her door wings sagging. "There really isn't much. We were sparked twins in the 1000 turn of Damaski. We became autonomous as dancers and spent a few vorns as such, learning our trade. We found work on the long-range transport ship Trithulus and provided entertainment for them for half a vorn. Then something… happened." Hues rubbed at her forehead.

"A wormhole," Prime supplied.

Rhythm nodded her head. "That sounds right. But that ends our story, because the rest of it is static, darkness and then we onlined here."

Prime rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Anything in the static?"

Rhythm put her fingertips to her crown, as if that motion would draw the memory out. "Voices… indistinct… screaming… a roar, and nothing." She shook her head, and then looked up at Prime. "How did you know it was a wormhole?"

"Before I became Prime, I was an Archivist."

Hues' brow ridges lifted a little. "Sounds like you have quite a tale."

"Yes," and he spent the next megacycle on the history of the war. The twins listened in rapt silence as he told of Cybertron's slow-coming death that led them to finishing the Ark and ultimately brought them here. He even dipped into the fate of the dancers.

Ratchet and Wheeljack moved away, as they had been through the fall of the Golden Age, and didn't care to relive it. Wheeljack disappeared for his lab, followed out by a growled admonition from the CMO not to go blowing anything up. Ratchet helped First Aid with inventory, all the while listening for Prime to finish. When he heard Prime wrapping the story up with their onlining, he headed back to his patients.

"Are there no more dancers left?" Hues asked, as Rhythm turned her head away, washer fluid tears welling in her optics.

Optimus lay a heavy hand on each of their shoulders. "Only their sparks in the bodies of Autobots. They remember what they once were, but…"

The twins sagged, most everyone understood the changes reformatting caused in a Cybertronian. "Where does that leave us?"

Prime lowered his hands. "Well, you have a few choices. You are welcome to remain as neutrals. We can provide the bare necessities; energon rations, quarters, basic maintenance. Anything else you will need to provide yourselves. If you choose neutrality, though, we will not be able to come to your aid, should you encounter Decepticons."

Ratchet put his scowl into place in an effort to keep from laughing. _How in the Pits did Prime expect to enforce that with the only two femmes on the planet?_

"Or you can choose to become Autobots. We'll supply you with a more armored form, and you will be provided for, but in exchange you must swear loyalty to the Autobot cause and to always obey the orders of your superiors. You will become productive members of the team, willing to take up arms when commanded."

Hues clasped her hands in her lap. "There's another option." She looked up and met Prime's optic. "What is it?

"You could also choose to go over to the Decepticons." A chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Of course, then we'd throw you back into the brig."

Rhythm laughed with dry humor. "So, in truth we have only two choices, but neither of us are fighters. Which leaves one."

"Weren't ye listenin'? Ye think any of us _wanted_ ta be fightin' in this slag-blasted war?" Ironhide all but snarled in an uncharacteristic show of anger.

Rhythm turned her optics away. "Of course not. I'm sorry."

The Autobot Commander crossed his arms over his chest plate. "It's a difficult decision and while we can't give you forever, we can grant you a short time to choose." Prime hesitated. "It has been a long time since many of these mechs have enjoyed the company of a femme, but, for the sake of the crew's safety, I'm going to ask you to quarantine yourselves for the time being. Am I clear?"

Hues laughed. "Better make sure _they_ know that, then."

Rhythm crossed her arms over her chest plate. "Besides we're not like some, who interface with anything that has ports. We do prefer to get to know the bot. The quarantine will give us that opportunity." A playful smile lit her face. "Though it's going to be hard to resist if we're surrounded by too many handsome mechs."

Prime did not smile. "Believe me; I've made sure they know. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask. I'll arrange a tour of the area for tomorrow. Ironhide will show you to your room when Ratchet releases you. You are welcome to enjoy the rec room and the lounge. I will see you later." He turned and left the med bay.

Hues eyed Ratchet. "You must be Ratchet, and Ironhide? Weren't you that nice mech that brought us the energon?" she added with a glance and a smile to the red and grey mech. "It's a little bit fuzzy".

Ratchet and Ironhide nodded. Ratchet expressed his pleasure at meeting the femmes.

"Then we have you to thank for fixing whatever was wrong with us, Ratchet?" Rhythm set her chin on her hand, smiling.

"You want a list?" Ratchet pulled their rings and bells from his subspace pockets. "Here you might want these back. They seem smaller than normal."

The twins took their accoutrements, and cradled them in their hands. Sadness blanketed their faces. "The computer had to cannibalize the larger ones for parts. These are all we have left." Hues drew the rings and bells against her chest plate.

"But what use are we going to have of them? Who needs dancers in the middle of a war?"

As they weren't addressing him, Ratchet looked them over in silence. Although he wondered how they could even process those thoughts. His brief trip into the lounge had put him on the receiving end of dozens of mechs asking if they would be forbidden from, up to, or even able to give them a show. In answer he scowled that all of that was still being considered.

The Ark was full of lonely mechs, who missed the sight of dancers, especially femmes, floating across the stage.

"Here." Hues suddenly shoved her rings and bells into his hands. A few clattered to the floor, taken in surprise as he was. He stopped her, before she could hop down and retrieve them.

"What's this for?"

"They're tritanium, I'm sure that's pretty hard to come by on this mudball.

Rhythm held out her handful as well, but Ratchet shook his head. "It isn't necessary."

"You helped us, when you didn't have to. This is just to show our appreciation."

Ironhide scowled at Hues. "It's what Autobots do. We ain't askin' fer nuthin'."

Hues matched the Security Officer's well-practiced scowl. "You don't have to ask. We're offering. It's all we have to give, take it." The red-orange femme crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head. Ratchet sighed as Rhythm dumped her accessories on top of the pile in his hand and more fell to the floor.

"Fine, we'll take the tritanium, but," he continued in a voice that broached no argument, "we'll replace the bells and rings. "

The twins shrugged.

"You two are used to quarantine protocol?"

Rhythm laughed, but it was Hues who answered. "As if any dancer isn't."

"Then I'll start going through your subroutines first cycle after sunrise. You may leave."

Ironhide stepped forward. "Are y'ready ter be shown your rooms."

The twins nodded and followed the big mech out.

* * *

"Here's the lounge, energon dispenser is on the wall on the right. There's a TV in the corner. There's a stack of datapads with, well what's left of some Cybertron literature. Most of it's Earth stuff that we found." Bluestreak gestured them ahead, a big grin fixed on his face. He couldn't wait to see his friend's reactions. Dancers hadn't been seen since the destruction of Spire Falls, his home city. Many of the younger mechs, like the lambo twins, had never even seen one. The femmes grumbled for a brief klick about their still chipped and scratched appearance. They had an appointment with Hoist later that day for a new paint job. The twin Esprit squared their door wings and stepped into the lounge. 

Conversation lulled to a murmur and even that died down as heads turned. The femmes shifted uncomfortably for a moment until Hues put her fists on her curved hips.

"All right now, y'all can put yer optics back in your craniums," she drawled, affecting an accent, "yer makin' my sister nervous"

Rhythm huffed and turned her back on Hues, her door wings tilted back in mock indignation.

It broke the silent spell that held the Autobotsl. Chatter filled the lounge again. Some of the Autobots rose, eager to greet the newest arrivals, and hear their tale. After all, these femmes had managed to avoid detection from their experienced trackers.

Hues pulled Bluestreak forward. "Is this _all_ of the crew?"

"No, maybe half. Then you have the Dinobots, but you rarely find any of them in here. Of course Omega Supreme wouldn't even fit in the entrance, much less here. Some of them are out on missions-oh, but those are classified and I'm not supposed to tell you about them." Bluestreak stopped his rambling when Rhythm nudged him.

"Any of the missing mechs happen to belong to a band called Rhythmic Feat?"

"Ah." He shrugged. "Don't really know. Some mechs don't like to talk about their past at all. What were their names?"

Hues stepped closer, hope gleaming in her optics. "Smoothbeat, Deadbeat, Fastturn, Timbre?" Her voice faded as he shook his head negatively at each name. She bobbed her head and released him. "Would you mind grabbing both of us a cup of energon?" She smiled past the sadness in her optics. "I have a feeling that we won't be let go any time soon." She glanced pointedly at the expectant crowd.

Bluestreak nodded and dashed away, grabbing two cups and filling them both.

"How are they?"

"Waugh!"

Elegant hands caught one of the cups when Bluestreak dropped it. Liquid sloshed over the rim and a rag appeared in Mirage's other hand to wipe up the small mess.

"Would you _stop_ doing _that_! Augh!" Bluestreak composed himself. "They seem fine." The gunner's bright blue optics shifted to the femmes. "They seem to just fit right in, I'd say."

"I wanted to make sure they were settled. I need to go on patrol.." Mirage handed the cup back to Bluestreak and disappeared from sight. "I'll talk to them later."

"I hate it when he does that," Blue said to no one in particular. He shouldered his way into the crowd long enough to hand the femmes their energon. He backed off at the threatening glares form the lambo twins. So he hung at the back of the crowd and listened as they told of how they first came to be on Earth.

"Where have you been the last five stellar cycles?" Hound piped up.

Rhythm took a sip from her cup, forcing Hues to answer. "Trying to survive. " The red-orange femme lifted her cup, ventilating deeply. "I never thought I'd savor low-grade this much. I might even compose an ode to energon. Oh, sweet, sweet fuel/What a liquid tool."

"Oh, please, Hues, not more Primus-awful poetry." Rhythm sighed dramatically.

Bluestreak piped up with a question that had been nibbling at his circuits. "Why didn't you seek any of us out? I mean our battles are all over the human news. You had to know there were Cybertronians around."

Rhythm shook her head. "No, we kept hearing about Autobots and Decepticons who just so happen to transform. We never made the connection between Optimus and Prime." She shrugged her door wings.

Hues giggled. "Musta been faulty wiring left over from the crash and repair."

A smattering of chuckles met the joke.

Rhythm looked mildly offended, her door wings drawn back. "Tough crowd tonight, sis." She took a sip. "Might need to start opening our ports and making lewd comments."

That earned laughter.

Smokescreen crossed his arms over his colorful hood. "So, is there a chance we can see you perform anytime soon?"

The twin femmes looked at all the eager expressions. "Well," Hues began, "there are a few issues with that. First of all is music. All of our music tracks were aboard Trithulus."

Blaster bounced onto his heels and transformed into his boom box form. "You want tunes, Blaster can do. Just tell me what you want and I'll play them for you." He played a variety of music in example.

Hues nodded. "We'd still need time to choreograph."

A bunch of disappointed 'aws' met that statement.

Rhythm tapped her lips. "And we can't dance without the proper attire."

Smokescreen lifted a hand, yellow chevron raised. "Just tell us what you need."

The twin femmes exchanged a smile.

* * *

Author's Note: A very chatty chapter. More action next one, promise. Also, I went back and corrected Ironhide and Red Alert's titles, which will be reflected properly from here on out.

Note of interest: The Cybertronian words that translate as Rhythm and Rhythmic have different connotations. Rhythmic Feat was not named after Rhythm, nor vice versa.


	4. Saturday

Rhythm & Hues: Carry on Dancing

Chapter 4

Saturday

Author's note: denotes English amidst Cybertronian, or Cybertronian amidst English

* * *

Hues lay on her front, offline in front of Ratchet. He dug through her systems for a specific port, to which he attached the cable he held in his hands. The door to the med bay hissed open and close and his sensors registered the small form of Sparkplug. 

"Up early today." His optics never left the monitors.

"Spike's supposed to come here today. Thought I'd beat him to it."

Ratchet's lips turned up. "Miss him?"

Sparkplug wheeled his ladder over and climbed up. "Every parent misses their kid when they go off to college." The human eyed the scrolling glyphs on the monitor. "I thought you finished with her yesterday."

"Routine virus check."

Sparkplug snorted, still staring at, what was to him, indecipherable lines of code. "Never seen you do one before."

"Never had a pair of dancers before, either," Ratchet retorted.

"Oh? Why would they need a virus check?"

"Don't want them spreading anything to the crew."

Sparkplug rubbed at his head, his brows drawn together, puzzled. "I still don't get it."

Ratchet pulled his mouth to one side as he considered how to phrase an answer. "I think you humans have something similar. What do you call them…?" He rubbed at his helm, searching. "Prostitutes?"

The human broke into a surprised coughing fit. Obviously, though it had been over a year since the humans even had an idea that the Autobots had anything comparable to sex; the mention of it still surprised them. It brought to mind the look on Spike's face the first time he'd found Inferno soothing a distraught Red Alert in the lounge.

"Maybe that's not the word. Still, don't they have routine exams to make sure they're not carrying anything contagious?"

"No," Sparkplug drawled. "Usually prostitutes sell themselves because they have no money or something like that. They can't afford a costly medical exam."

The CMO turned a horror-stricken face on Sparkplug.

Sparkplug grinned. "Why do you think it's illegal?" He paused and stared down at the femme, a contemplative expression on his face. "Does that mean they sell their bodies?"

Ratchet scowled at the idea. "No, they only charge for dancing."

The mechanic's ears turned a bright red. "Sounds more like strippers, I guess." Sparkplug stared down at the unconscious femme, rubbing his cheek. "Not that it's much better." He shrugged and hopped down, clearly unable to help Ratchet since he couldn't understand a word of Cybertronian.

Ratchet unplugged the decoder and closed Hues' back cranial plate, as well as her spinal relay access plate. Then he pulled the block that kept her offline.

The red-orange dancer shifted and her purple optics winked on. She rolled over, and sat up. "So far, so good?"

"So far."

Hues' gaze swept the med bay. "Where's Rhythm?"

"Getting ready for the tour with Hound." Ratchet wound the cord up and lifted the decoder. "You might want to do the same." He carried the machine into his office and set it down on one of the shelves.

Hues suddenly started screaming.

Ratchet sprinted out to find her still on the medical berth, her feet off the floor.

She noticed the CMO and jabbed a finger down. "What is _that _doing here?"

Ratchet smirked. "_That_ is our friend Sparkplug. He's not going to hurt you," he added with a smirk at her reaction.

The med bay door whooshed open and Hound pounded in, gun in hand, optics alert. "Ratchet is everything alright?" He took in Hues' posture, then his gaze dropped to Sparkplug.

The human panted, eyes wide and white. "I think I know how a mouse feels now."

"It's okay, just a misunderstanding."

The older Witwicky took a few calming breaths, hand pressed to his chest. "So, are you done talking about me?"

Ratchet smiled and switched to English. "Sorry, a few more astroseconds." He switched back to Cybertronian. "Do you know any English?" Hues shook her head. "Remind me to install a translation program then. Just shake his hand, gently, and say Hi, Sparkplug. "

The femme stared at the human in trepidation, before she reached a finger down. "Hi, Sparkplug."

Sparkplug chuckled at her accent. "Hi Hues," he returned in Cybertronian, also heavily accented. "And that's all the Cybertronian I know. Spike and Carly managed to pick it up better than I did."

Ratchet quickly translated and Hues smiled down at the chunky mechanic, though her doorwings still twitched nervously.

"Maybe we should introduce Rhythm while we're at it?"

Hues emphatically shook her head. "Oh no! She knows English, and would start asking questions and poking and prodding. We'll never be able to leave and I want to see more of this planet than cities and roads." Though the way she eyed Hound added another dimension to the outing.

'_Quarantine_, _and he's dedicated to someone. _' He shot at her over a tight link, hardening his optics.

She rolled her doors at him. '_Doesn't mean I can't appreciate all the handsome mechs this base has to offer._'

Ratchet snorted his opinion on that.

Hues hopped down, still avoiding the human. "Sparkplug," she said by way of farewell.

"Hues," Sparkplug returned, obviously amused by the way she edged about him. "You know," he said when the tracker led the dancer out. "I don't think I've ever seen a transformer so scared of a little ole human."

Ratchet laughed.

* * *

"Ooh, humans make me so nervous." Hues' wings shivered. "They're so squishy."

"You weren't acting either," Hound noted. Dancers had a tendency to exaggerate their emotions.

"I would never act so audio-shattering frightened like that for amusement. They really creep me out."

Hound couldn't help but to chuckle. "You'd almost think you'd squished one." He paused and stared at her, optics wide.

She looked at him from under her crown, lips turned in shame.

"Oh, slag." Suddenly it wasn't funny anymore. "We'll try to keep you away from the humans today."

"That'd be appreciated."

Hound picked up Rhythm from the lounged and gave Hues the opportunity to fill her tanks and then they headed out.

He gave them a tour of the immediate area around the Ark. The recreation field and the training grounds. He added a warning to be wary of the grounds. Sometimes they set it up for a session a day before, and laced it with traps that could batter an armored mech. He'd hate to see what it did to their unprotected forms.

Then they drove out to the forest. He pointed out the well-used paths and what their destinations were. The dancers never saw a trail, unless he pointed it out to them. They squealed in delight over a comm. channel at the sight of the different wildlife. Rhythm tried to get a closer look at some of the animals, while Hues remained at his side, admiring the vegetation.

He took them to his favorite spot, a small waterfall overlooking a valley. He put a genial arm around Rhythm's shoulder and pointed out the various landmarks.

Hues wandered off, looking at the trees, the bushes and flowers. She followed the river upstream, pausing every now and then, as presumably something caught her optics. His sensors could track her for a good mile, therefore he wasn't worried.

* * *

Starscream waited just outside of the tracker's sensory range. He'd been keeping a discreet eye on the jeep guiding the femmes about. He recognized this particular place as one of those Hound frequented. Then he saw the red femme wandering away from the Autobot and her 'sister.' This was his chance. Wait till he paraded this one, and, if he was lucky, the other, around the Decepticon base. And they would be his. Not Megatron's.

Staying out of Hound's sensor range. The Air Commander dropped down and transformed, cracking through the branches. He moved quickly through the forest and set up a jamming device that reached into the tracker's sensor range. Couldn't have anyone calling for help, now could he?

He waited, crouched in the shadows, optics dimmed. Uncomfortable from the moisture in the air and the branches that scratched his paint, he ground his dental plates impatiently. Steady, steady. Hear that the tread of metal feet. And the whisper of air through a ventilator.

Red-orange flashed just outside the trees that were his hiding place. He moved. His hand snapped over her mouth, and he wrapped his other arm firmly around her torso, securing her arms to her side. Then he dragged her back under the canopy and activated the array. She would still appear visible to Hound's sensors, but Starscream knew it wouldn't fool the tracker for long.

"If you promise not to call out," he hissed, "I'll release you. I just want to talk. Understand?" The femme nodded and her vocalizer quieted its whimper. "Good." He turned her around in his arms. "Now, what's your name, doll?"

"Hues," she whispered, doorwings trembling.

"Hues," he repeated, rolling the name around his cortex. "Where did you come from?"

"Crashed. A long time ago. Like you." She cowered before him. Just as she ought.

"So, the Autobots told you our story." Starscream narrowed his optics. "Did they only tell you their version, though?" She didn't say anything, only stared. "I didn't think so. You see, the Autobots claim to fight for the freedom of all to live as the please, but that's what we Decepticons do, as well. The freedom to take from those weaker than yourself. The freedom to hold whatever you have the power to." The Seeker shuttered his optics briefly. "Power is the right of all beings, my darling little doll." Her doorwings tightened. "Join us and- what are those?" He picked her arm up and stared at the rings. "Dancer." His grip tightened on her arm and anger smeared across his face. "You are a slagging dancer, little doll?" He grabbed her throat. "Swear allegiance to the Decepticons and we'll let you keep some of your memories. Refuse and-" he squeezed.

"Hues!" a feminine voice called. Time was up.

Purple optics regarded him in fright. "Why do you hate us?"

"You're worse than dolls, who at least earn credits with what you freely give. You should belong to one, or none at all. You give hope to those who don't deserve it," he snarled. He pressed his arm canon just beneath her chest plate. "Choose."

"Hues!"

A scream ripped from the femme's lips.

* * *

Hound paused in his vivid description of the outlying land. Hues had just vanished. A weight settled heavily into his fuel tanks. He turned to Rhythm. "Let's find your sister."

The blue femme tilted her head in puzzlement, but didn't argue. He guided her upriver.

As they neared where he'd gotten the last reading of Hues' signal, Hound released Rhythm's shoulder and strode a few steps ahead. Jet fuel filled his olfactory sensors.

Rhythm glanced at the tracker. "Hues?"

Hound winced, but didn't stop the dancer from calling.

Rhythm listened and called again, louder. "Hues?"

A scream erupted from up ahead, and just as suddenly was choked off. Rhythm reacted faster than the mech. She scrambled over the rocky ground to reach her twin. Hound wasn't far behind. Blaster fire sounded, spurring the two on faster. Rhythm's small size made up for her lack of familiarity with the terrain. He heard her shriek Hues' name again. Starscream's voice answered harshly.

"Stop or I'll melt her to slag."

Where the frag had that aft-head come from. Hound paused just out of sight. From between the trees he could see Starscream standing over Hues' inert form. Quickly the tracker ducked into the woods to the side.

"Hound to base."

Static answered his call. Jammed. Double slag. That would explain why Hues had just disappeared, though.

He moved around the Decepticon. The jamming device wouldn't affect only his sensors. Hound slipped up behind the Decepticon, and made brief optic contact with Rhythm.

"Distract him," he mouthed.

He didn't intend for that to mean charging the Decepticon. But she did. It drew the Seeker's guns off the red-orange femme. Hound rushed in and kicked Starcream's feet from under him.

Starscream screeched angrily, firing a shot that impacted on Hound's shoulder. It burned like hell. He transformed and made a strafing run at the femmes and Autobot, and then he fled. When all is said and done, the Air Commander put on a brave face, but was in truth a coward. Hound shot a few more times at the retreating figure just to be sure. His shoulder blazed with pain that he shoved down. He had to get them back to safety before Starscream could get reinforcements.

"Rhythm, are you okay?"

The blue femme crouched next to her sibling; ignoring the smoked and energon leaking from her frame. "Hound, what do we do?" Tears ran down her cheeks.

The tracker peered down at the red-orange femme.

Air wheezed out of the hole blown through her ventilator, unable to squeeze past her crushed throat.

"Hound to base." Still static. "Help me pick her up. We have to get back to the road."

It shouldn't have been hard, but between his bad shoulder, and Rhythm's slightly fritzing system, it felt like an ordeal. He clamped a hand onto the femme draped over his shoulder and they began the walk to more drivable terrain. All the while Hound radioed the Ark, to no avail. Rhythm stuck by his side, or rather Hues' side, all but ignoring the smoldering holes that riddled her body. Hound's brow ridge drew down with concern. "You're smoking."

"It's nothing. I'm more concerned with her inability to ventilate.

Hound was about to respond when a voice suddenly broke through the static.

"Ark to Hound, Ark to Hound. We read you. Over."

Never was the tracker so happy to hear Blaster's voice. "Blaster, we were ambushed by Starscream. We've got wounded and require assistance."

"Assistance is on its way. I see you on the long-range sensors, and _kzzzssshht_-" The transmission abruptly broke off.

"They're coming." Hound told Rhythm, modulating the worry out of his vocalizer.

Their feet thumped onto the packed dirt road. He gently set Hues down and painfully transformed. "Put her in my front seat and transform we need to move." Decepticon signatures were headed their way.

"Wow, that was fast," Rhythm murmured. She wouldn't recognize them as Decepticons, he realized.

"But not who we're looking for. Get her in."

Rhythm placed her sister in Hound, and then she transformed. The two took off. Though the Esprit was built for speed, Rhythm hung back.

"It's a straight shot to the Ark. Go!"

"I am not abandoning my sister, or you."

The three Seeker jets pursuing them opened fire, hooting and hollering at the prey. Hound swerved to avoid the laser fire. Dust clouds appeared, rapidly approaching. His concern turned to keeping the femme in his front seat. Rhythm tried to copy his maneuvers, but one of her tires blew out form a stray shot.

Hound cried out in frustration and whirled about. He transformed, pain ripping through his shoulder. Hues dropped to the ground in front of him. He grabbed Rhythm's hood and dragged her over, covering the twins as well as he could with his bulkier body.

"Hey, Screamer, why don't you pick on someone who can actually fight back?" Sideswipe rolled up and shot to his feet, activating his jet pack.

Sunstreaker threw dirt in the air and transformed, his gun trained on Thundercracker. "Hound, can you move?"

The tracker groaned and rolled to his side. He strained to sit up, but his arms wouldn't cooperate. "No, this is as far as I can go. Rhythm," his optics turned to the femme, "you okay?"

The Esprit transformed and the femme scooted closer to the green tracker. "I'll be fine." But her wide optics and pained movement told otherwise. She turned and drew Hues closer with shaking hands. She crouched there protectively over her sister, flinching with every blast fired.

Five high speed juts thundered overhead, led by Sileverbolt they chased the Seeker's away.

Sideswipe came back down, cheeky grin plastered over his face. "That was some fun jet judo, at least," and here he pouted, "until the Aerialbots spoiled the fun."

Ratchet, Ironhide, and First Aid skidded to a stop and transformed to shake a fist at the Lambo twins. "What part of light duty don't you two understand? If you rip yourselves back open form your antics, you can find someone else to repair you." He crouched down and looked over Hound and the twin femmes. "Why don't you two help Hound to his feet and get him into First Aid.

* * *

Ratchet ran a scanner over the red-orange dancer. Rhythm crouched next to her sister, clasping one of the limp hands. Dust covered their exteriors. Cursing, he managed what repairs he could, then turned to Rhythm. "Think you can get her into my bay? Then you can climb into Ironhide."

"I'll roll along beside you," she snapped, interrupting the CMO.

Ratchet paused to stare at the twin he'd originally pegged as 'the shy one.' "No," he drawled, "you'll climb into Ironhide."

Her optics flashed defiantly. "I'll roll beside my sister."

"Hey Ratch."

The CMO turned to scowl at a certain red cheeky devil.

"How about if we see her safely to base?" A thin smile touched Sideswipe's lips. "We'll even carry her if we need to."

Rhythm twitched her doorwings in appreciation. "As long as you don't slow me down." Ratchet didn't want to delay further, when the red dancer so clearly need urgent care. He transformed and opened his bay doors. When Rhythm had arranged Hues to her liking, Ratchet closed his doors.

He waited for the three sports cars to transform before he moved out. Rhythm stayed even with him, though he knew it to be painful to have all that dust and dirt on exposed circuits.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker stuck by her as promised. Sunstreaker stayed behind her, his bumper just barely grazing her rear. Sideswipe rode on her right, occasionally brushing up against her. Neither complained about the scratches that contact was sure to be making. In some ways the CMO understood why even the normally antisocial Sunstreaker seemed to be sympathetic. They knew, too well, what it was like to worry about a twin.

Ratchet didn't stop at the Ark entrance, but zoomed toward medbay. He made a note to inform Rhythm that the command element, which he guessed included himself, disapproved of anyone running around the Ark in vehicle mode.

Wheeljack came and unloaded the unconscious femme, allowing Ratchet to transform. Rhythm and the Lambo twins pulled up and hopped to their feet. The CMO snapped his fingers and pointed to a trio of seats located in the waiting area.

"Stay out of the way and you can stay. As soon as we get her stabilized we'll look at you."

* * *

Optimus Prime stepped into the med bay. Afternoon had long turned into evening, and this was the time he usually stopped to check on injured members of his crew. It wouldn't be the first time, nor would it be the last. It was routine. Every few megacycles, he would come out of his office and take a stroll around the Ark. He looked in on duty stationn. He poked his head into the lounge. He checked rec and training rooms. He wandered through the Residence deck. He would even pop in to see the Dinobots. Never at the same time. Never in the same order. It kept his mechs on their toes to know that Prime might very well pop up during their shift. It also gave them a bit of a morale boost as he stopped to speak to whomever he saw.

Now he was making his routine stop by the medbay. He walked clockwise along the berths, inquiring after those injured, like Cliffjumper, who had encountered Decepticons on patrol. He checked into Ratchet's office, but the CMO had more than likely taken a much needed break. First Aid was fiddling with some of the instruments attached to Hound. The tracker was in recharge, though he'd been online during Optimus' last visit.

"How is he?"

"What?" First Aid turned sharply in surprise. "Oh, he'll be fine. Ratchet has him recharging so his internal systems can affect repairs."

Optimus nodded and turned to the last two patients he'd yet to speak to.

Rhythm sat next to Hue's medical berth, her blue coloring marred by welds. She held one of her sisters limp hands in both of her own. Her doorwings trembled as she rocked silently. Dim optics stared at nothing."

The med bay doors whooshed open and Sunstreaker strode in with a cup of energon. He glanced at Optimus, but went straight to the dancer. He took one of her hands and pressed the cup into her fingers, speaking soft words in her audio receivers. Then the golden warrior sat down behind Rhythm and crossed his arms over his chest.

Optimus stood across from Rhythm. The femme downed the energon in a single gulp. She started when her optics met the Autobot commander's.

"Rhythm, it has been a long day. You should recharge."

Sunstreaker glanced up, a small scowl on his handsome face. Ah, right the whole twin thing.

The blue dancer set the cup on the floor, next to her. "She came online and told me what happened. She told me what this Starscream said."

"I know." Ratchet had reported that to Prime.

"I don't understand. What's so wrong with our ways? They've existed since Primus laid the foundation for Cybertron society.

"The Decepticons are possessive. They hate to share what they consider theirs, and they feel that everything and everyone belongs to someone. It's what motivates them in their goals for power."

"For that he hurt her. Just because we don't live a lifestyle he chooses. He wanted to _kill_ her for being a dancer. The sparkless spawn of a Quintesson." Tears dripped down her cheeks and she looked away. "He would have left her there. If Hound hadn't been there she would have been killed. I don't even know the frequency to reach the Ark and he wouldn't have cared. I want to kill him, Optimus Prime." She turned her moist optics back to the Autobot leader. "I want to fight with you."

Her words filled him with sorrow. He hated that anyone would say that. Yet, he'd listened to words like those from many mechs and femmes. How many of them had fallen under his command. He knew none of them regretted their decision. But they didn't have to live with it. He did.

"Rhythm, you are upset, emotional. I don't want you to make this decision until you've calmed down."

She stared at him in surprise.

Optimus exchanged a quick farewell before he left her to reconsider her decision. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to place them in this war himself. But he couldn't deny the need for troops. If they could find a use for them beyond their art.

* * *

AN II: Halfway through this act. Yay. Thanks everyone for sticking through this with me. 


	5. Sunday

Rhythm & Hues: Carry on Dancing

Chapter 5

Sunday

* * *

"If I see you two in here again in the next few solar cycles, I'll turn you into toasters. " 

Purple optics blinked at the unfamiliar word.

"They're a human cooking appliance."

Doorwings shrugged negligently. Then Hues quirked a grin. "But Ratchet, you still need to go through our subroutines."

Rhythm waggled her doorwings playfully, hands tucked behind her back. "You did say you wanted to do it yourself. Does that mean you don't need to anymore?"

"No, it doesn't. What do you three want?" Ratchet snarled at the three mechs who'd stepped into his med bay.

"We're just here for the femmes," Smokescreen replied in a soothing tone.

Ratchet eyed the Datsun and then he glared at the Lambo twins suspiciously.

"Well, I do have this scratch…" Sunstreaker began.

"Out!"

Chortling, the three mechs left, dragging the dancers with them. Smokescreen guided them towards the barracks.

"So, to what do we owe the honor of your attention?" Hues asked.

"Well, Sideswipe and I have patrol in a few astroseconds. We just wanted to check on you two."

"Oh, how nice," Rhythm murmured, steepling her fingers before her lips.

"Rhythm says you sat with her while I was in for repairs." Hues brushed her fingers along the brothers' shoulders. "How can we thank you?"

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe exchanged grins. "How 'bout a kiss ?" Sideswipe tapped his cheek.

Hues paused, a confused frown on her face. "A what?"

"Just put your lip components to my cheek." Sideswipe turned his head, smile never fading.

Rhythm and Hues glanced at each other and shrugged. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had to slouch for the femmes to reach, even though they stood on their toe joints. Blue and red-orange lips pressed against the Lamborghini's ivory faces.

"Thank you," the dancers chorused

"Alright bro, now we can go on patrol. See you ladies later" Sideswipe jumped into his car form and sped off. A golden Lamborghini followed him.

"Hey, no cars in the corridors," Smokescreen called half-heartedly. He dropped his gaze to meet the Esprits' curious gaze.

"What can we do for you?" they all but purred.

Smokescreen quirked an eyeridge. "You know, you can drop the act."

Wide optics filled with innocence. Rhythm tilted her head as they continued down the hall.

"Whatever are you talking about?"

He waved a finger at them. "_That_ is exactly what I'm talking about.

The dancers' smiles softened. "We know you mechs haven't seen a femme in vorns. We're just trying to, you know, do our job." Rhythm shrugged her doorwings.

"With mechs like the twins," and surprise flashed across their faces, "that is fine. But not me."

Hues gestured sharply in the direction Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had gone. "Twins? They're twins?"

Smokescreen nodded. The look the sisters gave each other made him wonder if the brothers ought to expect more of thanks. He turned his head to look down another corridor, effectively hiding the devious smirk that played on his lips. This might work out to his advantage.

"What ever happened to that security director? I've only caught glimpses of him since that first day." Rhythm asked.

Smokescreen chuckled. "Ironhide's been keeping him off your backs." He dropped his voice into a deep drawl. "It ain't proper ta pester femmes the way ya would, Red. If'n I catch ya bugging them, I'll lock ya in a closet far 'way from yer precious security cameras." He grinned. "That was more amusing than watching Prowl chase after Sideswipe."

Hues giggled. "Think he'd like a kiss , in thanks?"

Smokescreen shrugged his doorwings. "He's not into Earth customs like that."

"Earth custom? Here I thought it was some new Cybertronian fad."

They stopped in front of his quarters. He pressed in the code to open his door.

"A lot of us have picked up on Earth tradition. Humans have a saying, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans." At their confused expressions he added, "You know, it's like that old saying, 'When with a dancer spark like there's no tomorrow, when you're with a doll spark as long as you have money."

"Oh." Rhythm looked into his room after the door slid open. "Why are we here, anyway?"

"Because I have a proposition to make."

Their heads turned to him, optics narrowed in suspicion. "Oh really?"

He smiled and ushered them inside and onto a couch. "I know that you wanted time to prepare, but I was wondering if we could get an impromptu showing. Some," he continued, though their expression turned skeptical, "haven't even seen dancers perform. The last died in the invasion of Spire Falls." Their mouths closed over their objections. "Bumblebee wants to throw Spike a Spring Break party on Tuesday, day after tomorrow," he amended, "I was hoping we could get a performance.

Hues drew her door panels back. "You're making it sound like you have something to offer."

"Shrewd." He pulled two boxes from subspace. "Here, open them."

The femmes took and opened the simple cardboard boxes. Their optics lit up as they saw what lay inside.

Hues drew one of the larger rings out and examined it in the light. "What's it made out of?"

"Aluminum. The others are made out of various other light metals."

Hues set the ring back inside and eyed the rest of the shiny collection. "Not exactly as many as we normally work with."

A smile flashed across Smokescreen's face. He walked over to a set of drawers and opened the top one. "That's why that's free of charge." He caught a glimpse of their amused faces. "Now, this is what you'd be earning." He drew out several packages.

Purple optics widened as he unwrapped the packages to reveal colorful ribbons of various textures, and bells of varying sizes. But hesitance crossed their faces again, and so he clinched the deal. "Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are two of the mechs that have never seen a performance." And he had them.

* * *

Bumblebee and Spike sat across from each other one on a couch, the other on the transformer-sized table. They discussed daily life and how it changed since Spike went to college. 

"Yeah, I really miss hanging out with you guys. Beating up the Decepticons… College is nothing compared to that."

The mini-bot chuckled good-naturedly. "Although I seem to remember saving your from a lot more Decepticons then you beat up."

Spike sniffed with umbrage. "I think you have faulty memory circuits."

They paused at the approach of feminine voices chatting back and forth.

"These must be those femmes you told me about." Spike stood as the reddish orange and blue dancers entered the lounge, followed by Brawn, their assigned guard for the shift. Purple optics turned on Spike. "Hi, I'm-"

Rhythm squealed and zipped over to kneel by the student. "I didn't know you had a pet! Oh, I want one, too!" Blue lips pouted at the human.

Bumblebee stifled a laugh.

The others in the room didn't try.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe leaned against each other, systems locked in their hearty guffaws. Sunstreaker lifted a weak finger. "Hey Bumblebee, better make sure his cage has plenty of food and water."

"Is he housebroken yet?" Sideswipe hooted.

Spike crossed his arms over his chest and hunched his shoulders. "I can understand you, you know," he grumbled in Cybertronian.

"Primus, it talks!" Rhythm rocked back on her heels.

Stifling his giggles Bumblebee introduced Spike to the femmes. "He's our friend," he added. He looked up at Hues. "Why don't you come over and say hi?"

The red-orange twin stood off to one side, wary optics on the human. She shot the mini-bot a speaking look, but stepped up behind Rhythm, red doorwings twitching nervously. "Pay no attention to her nonsense. She's just a silly bot." Then Hues excused herself to the energon dispenser.

Rhythm bounced to her feet, giving Spike one final pat on the head before she joined her sister at the energon dispenser. Hues chatted with Blaster, but Rhythm rejoined the two on the couch. The spy picked up the distinctive hum of private chatter. "Bumblebee, do you know when Optimus Prime might be back?"

"Tomorrow, he's on a …. Ah… diplomatic mission for the Brazilian government."

She patted Bee's yellow knee. "Thank you. Now Spike, you simply _must_ tell me more about your people. Hues and I have spent five stellar cycles here and we know less than a quarter of what the Autobots know."

* * *


	6. Monday

Rhythm & Hues: Carry on Dancing

Chapter 6

Monday

* * *

"Aren't you two supposed to be seeing Ratchet right now?" Prime ached all over. That long drive in the rain to extract his second-in-command and saboteur certainly helped none either. 

Hues flicked her doorwings. "We asked if we could postpone for a few cycles. He was fine with it. Said he was working on someone anyway."

Ah, yes, the CMO had called for Prowl and Jazz almost as soon as Skyfire had landed. Optimus leaned his elbows on his desk, hands clasped placidly in front of him. "Very well then, what can I help you two with?"

Hues drew her wings up. "We thought long and hard on what you told Rhythm."

Rhythm nodded sagely. "Long and hard."

Optimus kept his face impassive, not twitching a servo. Dancers could read emotion into the smallest movement. It's what made bots like Jazz so good at their job.

"We've decided to join your cause."

He looked from one femme to the other and allowed himself a small sigh. "May I ask why?"

Air hissed from between Rhythm's dental plates. "Destroying Starscream good enough reason?"

Prime glowered down at the blue Esprit. "Vengeance is _never_ a reason enough."

Hues swatted her sister's shoulder. "If it's the only reason, then yes, Prime, you're right. But it's not our only reason." Prime ignored the buzz of their brief coded conversation.

Rhythm's doorwings drooped and her gaze dropped to the orange floor. "I can't stand the thought of being so useless when my sister needs me again. Wouldn't you fight to defend one you love? What hope have we, as unarmed, unarmored neutrals, against the Decepticons?"

Hues nodded. "I don't know what I'd do if I found myself without Rhythm. I fight to see her live."

Prime regarded the twins in a long moment of silence. "Very well if that's your decision, so be it." He stood and walked around his desk to lay a hand on their shoulders. "Rhythm, Hues, welcome to the Autobots. Do either of you have talents outside of your arts that we might use?"

"The band couldn't always afford a medic for repairs, so I stepped in for some of the basic tune ups and minor leaks or shorts." Rhythm shrugged self-consciously.

Hues hugged Rhythm's shoulder. "You undervalue yourself." The red-orange dancer turned to Optimus with a proud smile. "She was on the payroll as a nurse on the Trithulus. Never needed to be called on it though. I, on the other hand," her smile turned rueful, "have no talents short of my dancing, well except for something that has no place on the battlefield."

Rhythm nodded, cheeky grin on her face.. "Unhappily she's right. If she has any useful talents, _I've_ never seen them."

Prime considered the twins. "We'll see what we can do." Ratchet will be ecstatic to have another helper around the med bay, as long as she didn't get underfoot. "Report to Ratchet and introduce yourselves to Prowl, he's in the med bay now." Dismissed."

They hesitated, glancing at one another in uncertainty. The air hummed with their silent chatter.

"I always welcome questions or concerns from my crew. What's on your mind?"

Rhythm drew her chin up. "Sir, I know we're still under quarantine, but are we restricted from, well, to be blunt sir, from interfacing with any officers or other mech once we're released?"

Optimus returned to his seat at his desk, servos squeaking in protest. "No, I wouldn't do that to anyone under my command. I'm sure I don't need tell you of proper times and places."

Rhythm's optics flashed. "Of course not. "

Hues' doorwings twitched. "Just to set limits, would this include yourself?"

He frowned at them from under his mask. "Dismissed."

The dancer twins scooted out of his office, leaving only the drone of their tight-linked comm. chatter. Prime rubbed at his audio receptor, and then opened a channel to Ratchet.

* * *

Jazz lay on the gurney Ratchet had all but thrown him on, humming happily. A few tables down Ratchet grumbled and growled at Prowl's condition. After two weeks incognito around a bunch of human terrorists, it sure felt good to be back home. 

He didn't even lift his head when the med bay door whooshed open. At least not until he heard the light step of small metal feet, and the sweet voice that greet the CMO.

"Hey Ratchet, we're here for our daily torture session. And we're supposed to meet some named Prowl?"

"Yes, and Wheeljack and I are supposed to design weapons and armor for you both. Sit down by the scanner until I'm finished. Prowl will be over in an astrosecond." Ratchet went on to grumble good-naturedly about more bots to repair, and didn't he have enough of a workload.

Jazz pushed himself onto one elbow, his mouth agape. He couldn't believe his optics. They looked exactly as they did when they boarded the doomed ship an eon ago.

"Hues? Rhythm?"

The femmes looked at him, startled to hear their names. Confusion marred their brows. Jazz sat all the way up. His jaw worked in wordless surprise for a moment. "Aw, c'mon. I know I look diff'rent, but y'should recognize m'voice."

Suddenly Rhythm narrowed her optics. "Smoothbeat?"

He grinned. "One and only. Though it's Jazz now." He transmitted the slight written variation to his new name.

Two pairs of purple optics widened and the twins rushed him. He gathered them to his chestplate in a crushing hug they eagerly returned.

"Babydolls, you've grown so much!"

Hues clouted his shoulder. "What are you talking about? We don't grow." She leaned her head against his shoulder, a sigh escaping her vents.

"It's an earth saying. Humor an old mech."

Someone cleared their vocalizer. Jazz grimaced up at Prowl. "Prowl man; guess it's my turn for Doc Ratch's treatment. But first, Prowl, these're Rhythm and Hues. Babydolls, y'said y' needed to meet him, this here's Prowl."

A smile briefly flitted across the tactician's face. "Pleasure."

Jazz squeezed the tires on their shoulders. "We can catch up when you're done here."

Ratchet shooed them away. Jazz partially listened as Prowl informed the dancers of what would be expected of them and what they should expect in return.

Ratchet spoke without looking up from examining Jazz's feet. "How do you know those two?"

The saboteur couldn't tear his optics away from the twins. "They used t'be parta m'band. I never thought I'd see them again."

Ratchet paused and made a non-commital hum. "There's more to it than that." Then he jabbed Jazz's knee. "What the slag'd you do to your feet?"

Jazz smirked. "Ran through a gravel quarry." He turned his gaze back to the twins. "Guess y'could say they're my creations." He shrugged.

Ratchet sputtered. "You're cre-" he paused as he realized what cheerful mech meant. "Oh, I see. You must have been worried when they disappeared."

"Very. Th' whole band was. M'name was on the datawork, but they was really all a' ours." Jazz tilted his head. "What exactly are they here for anyway?"

Ratchet looked up at the Porsche. "Routine virus check."

Jazz's energon pump seized for a beat."What-"

Ratchet waved off the other mech's alarm. "It's just a precaution, _routine._ I haven't found anything to be worried about."

Jazz relaxed and Ratchet finished in silence. He ordered both Prowl and Jazz out so he could work on the femmes.

Jazz wrapped Rhythm and Hues into another embrace. "We'll catch up with each other after Ratch's done with ya." The he scooted out to catch up with the second-in-command.

"Howzabout that Prowl, you've been saying we needed more hands."

Prowl didn't even look at Jazz. "We also need more room. That _should_ be our primary objective _before_ more troops.

Bluestreak rounded a corner ahead of them. His optics brightened when he saw the other Datsun. "Prowl! I heard you came back way early this morning. I was hoping to catch you in the med bay before I left on patrol. How was Brazil?"

A genuine smile lit the stoic tactician's eyes. "It was very wet and very muddy."

"Well, I've gotta get going, but it's good to know you're home safe. And you too, Jazz. I missed you, everyone did."

Prowl reached out and lightly grasped the young gunner's elbow. Though the smile had already faded from his lips, his optics remained a contented bright blue. A grin suddenly tugged at the corner of Prowl's mouth. "I hear you found Rhythm and Hues?"

Bluestreak nodded bouncing on his heels.

Prowl leaned forward until his face was only inches form the grey Datsun's. "Then I'll have you to thank if these twins are as much trouble as our resident set."

The gunner's jaw worked soundlessly. Until Prowl leaned back with a smirk on his face. Bluestreak punched Prowl lightly on the shoulder for the tease.

"Better get going or you'll be late."

They said their good days and Bluestreak dashed down the hall.

The tactician's optics lingered for a moment, and then they slid a glare at Jazz's grinning face.

"Y'know y'should just say that missed him."

Prowl turned and resumed his pace down the corridor. "He knows."

"Don't mean y'can't tell him."

Prowl stopped abruptly and turned on Jazz. "I did not ask for your advice."

"Hey man, chill. I'm just tryin' ta help. I know he loves you, does it hurt to show that you love him?" The saboteur paused and tilted his head to one side. "Y'do don't ya?"

Prowl balled his fists at his side and his door panels drew back. "And what would you know about relationships?" Prowl growled. "When have you ever been anything more than a one cycle stand?"

Jazz's cheerful demeanor dissipated. "In the middle of a war ain't the time or place for a meaningful relationship. I mean," he continued when Prowl looked ready to take umbrage, "what you do is fine for you. Slag, we'da prob'ly lost Blue a vorns ago if you hadn't been here. But me, I don't wanna hurt that much. Besides, it's just not in my nature to stick with one mech or femme. Spread the love, y'know."

Prowl didn't lessen his glare, for a long moment. Suddenly all anger vanished from his face, replaced by his normal, neutral expression. "Just how did you know them anyways?"

Jazz didn't have to ask which them. "Aw man, everyone's gonna be askin' me that, ain't they? They were in m'band, specially designed an' ev'rything."

Prowl froze midstride. "They are dancers?"

"Yup."

The tactician resumed his interrupted step. "What does that make you?"

Jazz's grin returned. "An Autobot."

"Very funny."

* * *

"It's open." Jazz had to raise his voice to speak over the loud music that played. The twins took turns relating their story, a much more involved and amusing version than the one they'd told Optimus. Blaster stepped in, smile in place as he paused to absorb the sounds. 

Rhythm paused, suddenly eyeing Jazz's form. "Are we going to be reformatted that much?"

The saboteur looked at Blaster, who shrugged and took a seat next to Hues. Jazz hadn't had the chance to talk to Prime about it. He'd had a lot of datawork to catch up on after his two weeks away.

"Well, babydoll, I can't say either way. I doubt it though. Last I checked we just don't have those kinda resources."

The dancers both looked relieved to hear it. Then Hues turned to Blaster. "Blaster, be a dear and help us talk Jazz into dancing with us tomorrow."

Jazz shook his head, grinning. "Sorry, babydoll, like I been tellin' you, this bot don't do shows no more. I'm designed for stealth now."

The communications officer patted Hues' knee. "Sorry there, kitten, gonna have to agree with him." His blue optics met Jazz's visor. "They tried to talk me into it, too. Don't know where they got the idea."

Rhythm reached over Hues and prodded Blaster's chest. "Normally only dancers had cassette storage. Don't think times've changed that much."

Blaster grinned. "But I can still help you choose the tunes."

The saboteur laughed at the twins' disappointed pouts. "The Jazzman can do that, too. I know the dances you're good at; it's just findin' a song to go with it. What did you have in mind."

Engines moaned in defeat before Rhythm finally spoke. "Well, since this is supposed to be for Spike, I sat and talked with him yesterday. I didn't realize humans had so many forms of music. And _dance!_ Oh, Jazz, you have to take us to one of their performances sometime. It seems so exotic!"

Hues grumbled her opinion on that.

The four of them sat discussing the performance tomorrow. They agreed that two dances would be the limit, as that was all the time they had to prepare for. Then Jazz ran them through a few turns in an impromptu rehearsal. Finally the exhausted twins left.

Blaster watched the door close behind them, a contemplative look on his face. He turned to Jazz, sky blue optics winking merrily. "So, Jazz, just how do you know them so well?"

* * *

Author's note: One more chapter and this part of the story arc will be done. 


	7. Tuesday

Rhythm & Hues: Carry on Dancing

Chapter 7

Tuesday

* * *

Bluestreak sat sullenly on the couch, staring at the thick energon sloshing around his cup. Everything about him spoke of dejection; from the way he held his doorwings, to the frown on his face. Smokescreen paused on his way to the energon dispenser. The two Datsuns had never become close comrades. Still he didn't feel right just ignoring the young gunner, when he obviously could use a friend of some sort. So, he filled a mug and seated himself across from Bluestreak.

He waited for the bright blue lens to meet his. Surprise crossed the gunner's face, replaced by a smile.

It didn't fool Smokescreen.

"Ah, Smokescreen. I didn't see you there! You're getting as bad as Mirage. Wow, guess we have you to thank for convincing Rhythm and Hues to perform tonight. It's going to be great. Spike's going to be so surprised. He and Bumblebee went out to pick up some more supplies for the party. It's really nice that Prime's giving everyone a chance to see the performance."

Ah, yes, the inane chatter. One of the reasons he and Bluestreak were not too close. "I'm surprised Prowl isn't here. He's not on the duty roster until later."

Bluestreak faltered. "He had some work to do." He sloshed the energon around the rim of his cup.

That he didn't add more to it was hint enough. "You had a fight?"

The grey doorwings wilted. "He doesn't want to come to the performance. I don't understand. He's always enjoyed the arts. He regrets the loss of all those music files we had. He's never gone to any performances, or anything, but still..." The gunner's optics finally lifted. "I just don't get it."

Neither did Smokescreen. Their friendship with Prowl was one of the few things the two Datsuns had in common. Prowl didn't usually disappoint his bonded in such trivial matters. "Did he say why?"

The gunner's optics dropped back to his drink. He shook his head. "No," he said, his voice barely audible. Bluestreak's out of character lack of talking disturbed Smokescreen more than he admitted.

"Why don't I talk to him for you?"

Bluestreak lifted his head again, optics wide. "You don't have to really. He's not really keen on people getting into our business."

The racecar stood. "Well, I'm not." Without another word to the gunner, he strode out of the lounge.

He used one of the workstations in the hall to locate Prowl. The black and white Datsun appeared to be in his office. Smokescreen made his way through the corridors, barely pausing long enough to exchange pleasantries with his friends. He composed himself, shifting his door wings into a relaxed position. He chimed for Prowl's attention and the door slid open.

Prowl looked up from the datapad in his hand. "Yes, Smokescreen."

Most wouldn't be able to read the second-in-command. Even Jazz said he had trouble doing it sometimes. Smokescreen made a living off reading those who didn't want to be read. His doorwings stood rigid, higher than normal. His usually stern mouth turned down in a barely perceptible frown. The tactician was not happy.

And Smokescreen knew why. "Heard you got into a fight with Blue."

The frown turned to ice. "I do not see how that's any of your concern."

Smokescreen shrugged. "He's upset about it. Someone else is bound to notice."

Prowl's optics narrowed. "Do not play coy with me. What do you really want?"

The racecar widened his optics, affecting surprise. "What? Can't I care about a fellow Autobot? It's not like I'm Sunstreaker."

Prowl's finger tapped his desk as he considered the diversionary tactician. "I do not like discussing personal matters."

Smokescreen's yellow chevron lifted. "Not even to Blue?"

The ice in his scowl rose to his optics. "Again, that is none of your business."

A blue hand slapped down on Prowl's desk, startling the one seated there. "Someone else might notice and be a lot angrier about it." Then he tilted his head. "So, why won't you go? And don't tell me it's because you don't want to leave the Command Center unattended. Slag, even Red Alert wants to attend, despite the hissy fit he's throwing about the security at the event."

Prowl's frown darkened into an outright scowl. "There is no reason to make Prime monitor the security grid all night, all by himself. There should be a contingency plan."

Smokescreen drew his doorwings back. "There is one. We're right out there." He jabbed his finger in the direction of the entrance. "We aren't far. Not even as humans go. And it's not _all_ night, just for the performance.

Prowl's face softened. "Blue's really upset?"

The yellow chevron tilted as Smokescreen turned his head. "Shouldn't you know?"

The patrol car covered his face with his fingers. "Fine, I'll go." He glared at the diversionary tactician through his fingers. "Happy?"

Smokescreen smiled, all innocence. "What are you talking about? I did that for Blue."

Prowl crossed his arms over his chest. "I know you too well for that, Smokescreen."

* * *

Spike's bright brown eyes watched Rhythm follow Trailbreaker into another circle of mechs. "This is a great party guys. Thanks so much."

Bumblebee grinned. "Night's not over yet, Spike." He took a sip of his high grade.

"Wish Carly and Chip could've made it though."

"Carly more so than Chip, I'd bet," Bumblebee rumbled with contained laughter.

Hues joined them, her doorwings rigid. She didn't sit down, but stood behind Jazz's shoulder. "Spike, Rhythm wanted me to make sure you're having fun."

Spike grinned up at the dancer. "Why didn't she come ask me herself?"

Jazz covered a smile with his hand. Spike still had no idea how nervous squishies made Hues. He had just found out the night before himself.

"Well she couldn't _possibly_ just abandon Trailbreaker. That would be _so_ rude." Hues' tone and rolling gestures dripped with sarcasm. She leaned her elbows on Jazz's shoulders. "Personally I think she's being a nosy busybody." Hues tilted her head. "But are you having fun?"

"Great fun," Spike replied, lifting his glass of beer.

Hues smiled and her fingers curled around Jazz's shoulder. "I'm also here to steal Jazz."

The saboteur patted the red fingers. "I'll be right there, babydoll."

"See you in a breem then. Later Spike." Hues waltzed away, doorwings relaxing as she moved away from the human.

Spike turned to Jazz, switching to more palatable English. "I hear they're your creations, Jazz. I didn't even know you could build anything like that."

Bumblebee smirked knowingly, while Jazz quirked a half grin. "I can't. I jus' put the credits towards it. Well, me 'n my band. Can't forget them."

"Dad says Ratchet compared them to prostitutes," Spike lifted an eyebrow," or strippers." By his tone it was apparent Spike was hoping his dad's memory to be wrong.

The two mechs looked at each other, stunned speechless for a moment, before they busted out laughing.

"Aw man, don't ever tell them that," Bumblebee said. "They'd hurt you."

"Nah, Spike. I wouldn't call them either. They're more like swingers." Jazz took in Spike's furrowed brow. "I guess that ain't much better. Don't forget, you're the one who asked."

A cry rang out over the chatter. Guns appeared in hands.

"Decepticons!"

* * *

Optimus ran out of the Ark, gun ready. He could make out the shadowed forms of a Seeker Trine in the failing light. Astrotrain and Blitzwing flew on either side of what could only by Soundwave. And there, his silver paint gleaming red in the sunset, hovered Megatron.

"Megatron!"

Cruel red optics turned to Optimus.

"What are you doing here, Megatron?" Optimus located Prowl and joined his second-in-command. Bluestreak stood beside the patrol car, hatred marring his face.

Megatron sneered at the guns trained on him. "I'm not here to fight you Prime. I simply couldn't believe that Starscream found you hiding dancers."

"Don't act so ignorant, Megatron. Why else was he in Portland while you were in Nevada."

"Was that what he'd found." Megatron glared at his Air Commander. "He only said that you had gotten it. He refused to explain further." The look on the Decepticon commander's face promised pain in Starscream's near future. "Tell me Prime, have you already convinced them to join your sorry team of losers."

"What choice did we have?" Rhythm's voice suddenly chimed into the evening sky. "Starscream made it quite clear just what you Decepticons would do to us."

Megatron scowled down at the blue femme. "And what would that be?"

"Terminate us, just like all the other dancers."

Megatron glanced at Prime, then threw his head back and let out a roaring laughter. "Is that what these fools told you?" He leered down at Rhythm's angry face. "My dear, if you only knew the truth. Isn't that right, Prime?" Red optics met blue.

Optimus took a step closer, fury blazing in his eyes. "It is the truth, Megatron. You destroy every dancer you get your hands on. Every. Single. One."

"The humans have a saying, don't they Prime?" Megatron's sneer never left his face. "Truth is in the eye of the beholder."

Rhythm and Hues turned to Optimus in confusion.

"I see you didn't tell them, Prime. Deactivating every dancer is a waste of sparks. Tell them what we do to their kind."

Optimus glared at his eternal foe. He'd hoped to reveal this at a much later time. He turned his optics to the femmes. But if he didn't tell them, the Decepticon would. Careful not to look anywhere but into the twin's purple optics, he spoke in a quiet voice. "The Decepticons used to have labs where they wiped sparks clean of memories, and altered personalities to suit their needs. Some, but not all the dancers were subjected to this grueling process." He lifted a hand to bare the question he knew they wanted to ask. "Those dancers _are destroyed._ Nothing remains of who they were, not even their shells or their names. They are no different than inexperienced sparklings." He didn't mention the Robosmasher, as by that time there were no dancers left to convert.

Hues regarded him with suspicion. "And you never tried to rescue any of them?"

Optimus' spark sank at the betrayal on their faces. "We've only ever successfully saved one from those labs, but that bot is no longer what they were. No longer a dancer. What remains of those memories only brings pain."

* * *

Jazz gently tugged on the rings he'd placed on Rhythm, making sure they were secure. The normally chatty twins hadn't said a word since Megatron left, surprisingly without a fight as he'd promised. Rhythm quietly slipped rings into those on Hues' crown.

"Y'know," he finally said, unable to stand the silence any longer, "Optimus wasn't tryin' t' deceive you."

Rhythm's hands stilled and she cast a glare at him, all hints of playfulness gone. "Then why does it slagging feel like it."

Hues shifted her door wings to add her own glower. "He twisted his words, isn't that lying?" It wasn't so much a question as a statement.

"You told me he betrayed and murdered my father_,"_ Jazz quietly quoted to himself. He modulated his voice louder. "Yes, and no." He grinned at the scowls they gave him. They hated answers like that

"One of those things we have to judge for ourselves?" Hues lifted her chin.

"Ayup, one'a those things."

Rhythm and Hues sighed and the air hummed with their private conversation.

He didn't remember it ever being so loud. Of course back then he didn't have to pick up on stuff like tight links. He wondered how the Lamborghini twins kept their private communications concealed amid upgrades to better signal detection.

"Rhythm, Hues. Sunny and I were wondering how much longer you're going to- Uwagh!" Sideswipe ducked the datapad that suddenly came flying at him.

"Get out!"

"Tha' was mean Rhythm." Jazz's voice crackled with laughter.

"He's trying to spoil the surprise! Let's get these ribbons on so we can get it over with. Thank you Jazz, but we can do the rest ourselves."

Jazz shook his head with a sigh. He reached out to Hues' shoulder, but the femme shifted away. He dragged his feet to the entrance of the small 'dressing room.' He turned around one last time. "Before y' judge him, maybe y'should ask Prime 'bout it."

The twins didn't acknowledge him.

* * *

"That was a waste of fuel, Mighty Megatron!" Starscream made a point of shrieking right past Megatron's audio receptors. "We should have brought the whole contingent and laid waste to the Autodolt's base. Then we could have captured those two, if you wanted them that badly."

Megatron laughed harshly. "You are a fool as ever, Starscream. You do not think things through. 'The whole contingent?'" Megatron mocked the Seeker's screechy voice. "Your Combaticons are useless unless they're Bruticus, but where's Swindle? Do you know? I didn't think so."

Starscream swooped around and tilted himself to glare at the Decepticon leader. "Well then where are _your _Stunticons. I notice _they're_ missing as well!"

"I always have more than one agenda going, Starscream. And the Stunticons are loyally working towards some of those other plans, which is more than can be said for you." Contempt filled the silver mech's tone.

Starscream vibrated with frustration, leaving spiraling contrails in his wake. "Then why even bother coming out here in the first place!"

"Did it ever occur to you to question how they got here? Soundwave what is Laserbeak's report."

The blue mech looked nowhere but ahead. "Laserbeak reports: No sign of a shuttle or ship."

"See Starscream, where there's a ship, there's resources. One of those two femmes ought to be able to tell us where their ship crashed."

* * *

Two blobs of translucent darkness emerged from the Ark. Jazz chuckled to himself. Holoemitters always came in handy where one didn't have a backstage to hide in. Pity that the Decepticons had ripped his out a long time ago. Back before he'd joined the Autobots.

"This is a real special treat for ya, Spike. Even we ain't seen it in a long time."

"I guess it's only fair. Seems like we shove our culture down your throats, doesn't hurt to get a taste of your own in return." Spike sighed, resting his cheek on his knuckles."It's a pity Carly and Chip are missing it. I know they both would have been excited. Dad, too."

Bumblebee squeezed Spike's shoulder, taking care not to pinch too hard. "We know, Spike."

A stage, hastily, though not shoddily, erected by Grapple and Hoist, stood in the middle of the Ark yard. The twin blobs stepped onto the dimly lit stage. The lights brightened and the holograms dissolved, revealing Rhythm and Hues. Colorful ribbons hung from their heads and doorwings, weighted down with bells. Short chains interspersed the ribbons, lined with more bells. A fresh coat of paint and wax glistened in the light.

The twins stood back to back, arms spread. Blaster started up the music, and they swayed gently, silently, to the soft sounds. They slid away from one another. Their arms wove figures in the air, graceful mirrors of each other's movements . The lights shimmered off the rainbow of ribbons cascading around the femmes. Only the music followed their sweeping spins, their raiment twirling about them. Then the beat picked up and bells chimed with deliberate motions. For the first time in eons Cybertronian dancers played across the stage.

End Act 1

* * *

Author's notes: Thanks to everyone who's stuck it out with me so far, and to those who've left reviews. Next up for R&H will be the first set of interludes (which may take slightly longer, as they need to be written --;;) I feel like I should have more to say, but my mind is blank. 


End file.
